


Not Even Death

by queenofthegoatsstuff



Category: Norse Religion & Lore
Genre: Alternate Norse Religion & Lore, F/M, Gen, Some violence later on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 07:13:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14038962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofthegoatsstuff/pseuds/queenofthegoatsstuff
Summary: A more romantic retelling of the story of Hel and Balder.





	Not Even Death

**Author's Note:**

> So, my brain has been in a bit of a funk lately. (all these science classes are bogging me down!) So I wrote this to just sort of let my brain do it's own thing for once. Enjoy!

The cold wind bit at Loki’s face and made his eyes water. He hated coming to Niflheim, though he wouldn’t dare tell his daughter that. She took a great amount of pride in her new duties, after all, she was so powerful that this was the only place Odin could stick her and feel safe. Not even Loki was that much of a threat, and it pleased him to no end that his little girl frightened the Allfather so much. The snow crunched under his feet as he walked, not the pure, white snow on Asgard or Vanaheim, but dirty, dingy black snow tainted with death. 

He approached the gateway into Hel’s palace and found himself face-to-face with Garm, Hel’s enormous grey wolf. Garm snarled and snapped as Loki drew closer. “It’s all right, boy, it’s only me,” he said, arms up in surrender. Garm stepped closer and sniffed; his milky, cataracted eyes almost peered into Loki’s soul. With an undignified huff, Garm dismissed Loki and padded back to his sitting spot. 

Loki walked through the palace’s courtyard. It wasn’t a normal palace; no flowers grew in the courtyard, no servants roamed about, the only trees in sight were gnarled and dead, and the fires sprouting from the torches were bright green. “The fire in your hearth shall be poison,” Loki remembered Odin’s words when he declared her queen of Niflheim. “Your throne shall be a sickbed,” he had also said. Loki was proud of Hel, yes, and she told him that she took pride in her duties, but he couldn’t help but feel that she never would have wanted this for herself, no matter what she told him.

He found his daughter sitting by the pool she used for scrying, staring wistfully into the murky depths. With the pool she was granted more powerful sight than Heimdall, for none can escape death. Loki approached his daughter cautiously, searching for the right words to draw her from her trancelike state.  
“Hello, father,” she sighed, not bothering to look behind her.  
“Hello, little raven,” he said cheerfully. Fenris was the wolf, and Jormundur the serpent, but Hel, ever watchful, was his raven, more attentive than even Odin’s ravens.

He knelt beside her as she stared mournfully into the pool. His pet name for her would usually make her smile, but not this time. Loki supposed being queen of the dishonored dead was a depressing job, but it never seemed to bother her before. He peered into the pool to see what she was scrying and sighed. Of course it was him. “Darling, you torture yourself,” he said, taking her hand.  
“Did you not pine for Mother when she left you?” she asked somberly.  
“That was different, we were married for five years and had three children. Balder is a passing fancy, trust me,” replied Loki.

She turned to him with watering eyes. “Did you just come to lecture me on things you know nothing of?” she asked.  
“No,” he replied softly, “I came to visit my daughter on her birthday.”  
The corners of Hel’s mouth twitched. “I see you’ve come empty-handed. Typical.”  
Loki returned her smile. “I forgot your present one year! Are you never going to let that go? Besides, what sort of gift do you give the queen of the dishonored dead?”  
Hel threw her arms around him. “I miss you so much,” she said, “you can be my gift this year.”

“I miss you too, little raven,” Loki said, returning the embrace. “If I had gotten my way, Odin wouldn’t have sent you off so soon.”  
Hel shook her head. “No, it’s better this way. Any longer and I would’ve been even more attached to…,” her voice trailed off and she bit her lip.  
She looked up to meet his eyes. “Does he talk about me?” she asked.  
Loki sighed. He could tell her to let him go until he was blue in the face, and it would likely do no good. Teenagers, he grumbled to himself.

“I wouldn’t know,” he replied, “I’ve never really talked to him in the first place.”  
Hel’s face was downcast, and Loki fumbled to think of something to raise her spirits.  
“What if I talked to him?” he asked her. He cursed himself for even thinking it; this would not help her get over him. “I could ask him what he thinks of you.”  
Hel’s face brightened instantly. “You would do that!?” she asked.  
Loki managed a slight smile. “I would do anything for you, dear,” he said fondly.

**Author's Note:**

> This story shouldn't be too long, so it probably won't take me too long to finish it. As always, please let me know what you think and thank you so much for reading!


End file.
